


Therapeutic Intent

by aliceinwonderbra



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: BtVS season 3, F/F, PWP, because i am too schmoopy to skip that completely, but mostly PWP, okay maybe porn with a smidgen of plot, or at least feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinwonderbra/pseuds/aliceinwonderbra
Summary: Buffy, Faith, formal wear. SlayerFest '98 is over, and Buffy needs a place to clean up.
Relationships: Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers
Comments: 29
Kudos: 154





	Therapeutic Intent

Ordinarily, Faith’s not the first to leave a party, but this party is decidedly timid, full of blonde girls with peach lipstick who look at her like she doesn’t belong here. They’re not wrong. She wouldn’t even have come to this thing if it weren’t for that hangdog look Buffy was sporting all week long. So here she is, decked out in the finest dress a girl could shoplift from the Sunnydale mall, her hair pinned up for once, and Buffy’s nowhere to be found. Willow and Xander have a bug up their butts about something or other, and literally no one in this entire school thought to spike the punch. At least she had the satisfaction of embarrassing Scott Hope, that dick.

By the time they call Homecoming Queen, she’s already beyond bored and still hasn’t seen Buffy anywhere. She decides to bail. Time to go home, get changed, and find something to kill. She get about two blocks from the school when she hears footsteps behind her. She slows her walk, and they slow with her. Cursing the lack of hiding places in her dress, Faith looks to the trees along the road, searching for a branch about the right size to function as a stake in a pinch. She’s just about to leave the sidewalk and dart into the trees when she hears a voice behind her. “Faith, wait up!”

Buffy’s behind her, and she looks a wreck. Her dress is clinging to life with one strap still supporting the bodice. A long cut on her arm is crusted over with dry blood, and she looks like she’s been playing in mud pies. Faith raises an eyebrow as she approaches. “Did you and Cordelia get into a fistfight?” She asks, not entirely joking.

Buffy rolls her eyes as she arrives at her side. “Not exactly,” she says. “We were kidnapped, dropped off in Miller’s Woods, and some vampires decided to trophy hunt for us.”

Faith’s taken aback by this answer. “What vampires?”

Buffy shrugs, as they fall into step beside each other. “No clue, but most of them are dead now. They called it ‘SlayerFest.’”

“Guessing they weren’t planning on Cordelia being with you,” Faith surmises.

“That would be correct,” Buffy agrees. “You were supposed to be picked up first.”

“Sorry I missed it,” Faith says sincerely. Sounds like it would have been a lot more fun than Homecoming. “She make out okay?”

“Yeah,” Buffy says, “she actually held it together pretty well.” She glances at Faith. “How was Homecoming?”

They’re walking past Sunnydale Cemetery, and Faith runs her fingers along the stone wall. “No vampires, no alcohol, no date,” she says dryly. “Best time ever.”

Buffy snorts. “At least you looked great.”

That makes Faith grin. “Thanks,” she says. “You look great too.” Sure, Buffy looks like she completed a mud run in a prom dress, but that doesn’t change Faith’s opinion. Buffy’s a stone cold fox, covered in mud, slime, demon entrails, or anything else.

“Yeah, right.”

“I wouldn’t kick you out of bed,” Faith says, a dimple appearing in her cheek.

Buffy flushes and elbows her lightly in the side. “Shut up.”

Faith places her hand over her heart. “I’m dead serious,” she says. “You just got a little…” She reaches over and picks a bit of leaf from Buffy’s hair. “There, good as new.”

Buffy fiddles with the strap on her dress. “I spent a year’s worth of allowance on this, and my mom paid for the limo. I’m not looking forward to explaining this to her.”

“Hence why you’re walking me home right now,” Faith points out. They’re skirting the edge of makeout park, headed in the direction of Faith’s motel, and the opposite direction of Buffy’s house.

“Guilty,” Buffy says. “Do you mind? Just until my mom goes to sleep.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Faith assures her, although she’s starting to remember how much of a mess she left her place.

Buffy fills her in on what she remembers about SlayerFest as they walk the rest of the way. Faith’s not kidding when she says she’s bummed she missed out. She’ll take running for her life through the woods over attending a high school dance any day.

When they arrive at her room, Faith stands on her tiptoes to pluck the key from above the doorway trim.

“You leave your key right there for anyone to find?” Buffy asks.

Faith shrugs, slotting the key into the door. “No pockets in this outfit.”

As she walks in, she flicks on the lamp beside the door, wincing as she glances around. Clothes are strewn across the floor and empty soda cans litter her dresser top. She sighs internally, but gestures for Buffy to follow her inside.

“Okay if I use your bathroom?” Buffy asks. “I wanna clean up a little.”

Faith nods her agreement, remembering after the door is closed that she left bras hanging in the shower to dry. She bundles the clothes up from the floor, opening the closet door and dropping them inside. The cans she collects and drops into the garbage. Then she throws the covers back over the bed, quickly corralling the pillows to order. She looks in the mirror. The dress still looks good; the hair less so. She reaches up for the clip holding it behind her head and pulls it loose. Her hair falls around her shoulders, and Faith fingercombs it out. That’s better.

In the bathroom, the water turns off. “Faith,” Buffy calls through the door. “Could you help me a sec?”

Faith makes her way to the bathroom door, not opening it. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Buffy opens the door, her skin scrubbed clean. Her dress is dusted off as well. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Yeah,” Faith says, gesturing toward the cabinet beneath the sink. Buffy steps back, allowing Faith to join her in the tiny space. Faith unearths the first aid kit, setting it on the counter. “Want help with your arm?”

Buffy nods, shifting so that Faith has access to her left arm. Unzipping the kit, Faith pulls out a bottle of peroxide. She plucks several tissues from the box on the countertop and presses them to Buffy’s arm just below the cut. “This is gonna sting,” she says, knowing from experience that a cut this deep is gonna burn like a mother. She waits for Buffy to nod, then lightly tips the peroxide bottle, so the liquid runs across the cut.

Buffy hisses, reaching out blindly and grabbing a handful of Faith’s dress.

“You okay?” Faith asks. “I need to do it again.”

Buffy grits her teeth. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Faith tips the bottle again, and more white bubbles appear along the cut in Buffy’s arm.

“How is it possible that cleaning something always hurts worse than getting it?” Buffy asks, frowning as her arm throbs.

“Almost done,” Faith says, leaning down and blowing gently on the cut.

Buffy swallows audibly, her fingers tightening on Faith’s dress. She doesn’t let go until Faith’s applied antibiotic ointment liberally over the gash, and taped gauze over it. Then she seems to realize she’s still holding on and releases her. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Faith says, repacking the first aid kit. “You missed a spot on your back. Want me to get it?”

“Sure,” Buffy agrees. She turns toward the mirror, showing Faith her back. Faith picks up a washcloth, saturating it with warm water before she turns to Buffy, gently rubbing the cloth over her skin. She concentrates on the task at hand, definitely not on the fact that Buffy smells amazing. She slides her index finger into the back of Buffy’s dress, tugging it down just a bit so she doesn’t miss anything. Definitely not thinking about what it would be like to reach around, lay her palm flat on Buffy’s belly, and kiss the back of her neck.

“All set,” Faith says, at length, sounding like she has a frog in her throat.

“Thank you,” Buffy says. She turns around just as Faith tries to reach past her to deposit the washcloth in the sink, and they bump into each other, their chests close enough to brush together.

“Sorry,” they both say at the same time. Faith doesn’t immediately step back, just watches the blush that starts on Buffy’s chest, making its way up her neck. Then she catches herself, dropping the washcloth and standing aside.

Buffy manages a nervous smile and leads the way out of the bathroom. Not wanting to crowd her, Faith sits down in one of the chairs, leaving Buffy space to move toward the dresser and start unpinning her hair.

“So, we got some time to kill,” Faith says conversationally, watching her. “What do you wanna do?”

Buffy shrugs, placing the bobby pins one by one on Faith’s dresser top.

“Paint each other’s nails?” Faith suggests. “Pillow fight?”

Buffy smiles in spite of herself. “Spoken like someone who’s never been to a sleepover.”

“I’ve been to sleepovers,” Faith says, “just probably not the kind you’re talking about.”

Buffy rolls her eyes, but she’s blushing. “Do you try to come up with this stuff, or does it just pop into your head?”

“Mostly just appears in my head,” Faith answers. “It’s a gift.”

Buffy finishes letting down her hair and shakes it out, running her fingers through it to ensure there’s no remaining debris. After, she rotates one shoulder then the other, looking a little worse for the wear from her evening’s activities.

“Shoulders hurt?”

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “I guess getting thrown through the forest by a grenade will do that to you.”

True to form, Faith’s next comment just appears in her mind, no further thought needed. She pats her lap invitingly. “Come sit. I’ll massage those kinks out for you.” She raises an eyebrow, waiting for the usual flush and sputtering that accompanies her innuendos.

Buffy gives her a severe look, but she crosses the room to stand in front of Faith. Faith looks up at her through her eyelashes, a little grin on her lips. “I know what you’re trying to do,” Buffy says.

Faith lays a mock wounded hand over her heart. “I’m just trying to help a fellow slayer in need,” she says in a completely innocent voice.

Buffy looks at her for a moment, then turns around, and Faith thinks she’s going to walk away. Instead, she adjusts her dress and does as Faith invited her to, sitting down on Faith’s thighs.

Faith’s momentarily stunned into inaction, and Buffy says in a self-satisfied tone, “I thought you were going to rub my shoulders.”

Faith swallows, her mouth suddenly dry, and raises both hands to Buffy’s shoulders. She gently brushes Buffy’s hair out of the way, then digs her thumbs in, starting just above her shoulder blades. She expects this to be brief, with Buffy bouncing back off her lap in a minute or two, happy to have called Faith’s bluff.

Instead, Buffy slowly relaxes, her back coming to rest against Faith’s chest as Faith’s strong fingers soothe the knots in her shoulders. Eventually Faith moves to her neck, palms flat on either shoulder, her thumbs sweeping up and down Buffy’s neck with precision. “This helping?” She asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

Buffy’s ass is nestled against Faith’s mound, her parted legs landing on either side of Faith’s. Several layers of formalwear lay between them, but that does little to temper the swirling in Faith’s stomach.

“Mhmm,” Buffy says, relaxing further, letting her head roll back onto Faith’s shoulder.

This makes it a lot harder to keep rubbing her neck, so Faith lets her hands leave Buffy’s shoulders. Her touch is feather soft as she runs her palms over Buffy’s biceps, avoiding the bandaged area. She squeezes as she goes, trying to at least masquerade at therapeutic intent.

Buffy’s bare shoulder is just below her chin. Faith takes a chance, dropping her lips softly to Buffy’s skin.

Buffy exhales a little harder, and Faith takes that as a good sign, moving her lips over to the column of Buffy’s throat. She finds a scar there, no longer pink, but still upraised, and runs her tongue over it softly. Buffy’s hand finds her thigh and squeezes.

Since becoming the slayer and having all of her senses heightened, Faith’s generally found she’s horny more often than not and it doesn’t take much to get her going. This has been especially true around Buffy. Sparring with her is hard enough, watching her cute little shorts ride up higher as they practice, pretending not to notice that Buffy’s nipples are hard through her sportsbra, somehow resisting the urge to not just pin her, but pin her and take what she wants… this is near impossible, but slaying with her is just as bad. Something about watching Buffy handspring off a tombstone, land feet first into a vampire’s face and then crouch over him, slamming her stake home, is incredibly sexy. Slaying has always gotten her juices flowing, but slaying with Buffy is next level. Most nights Faith can’t wait to get back to her hotel, unzip her pants, and plunge her fingers into her panties. And 99% of that time, she’s fantasizing that those fingers belong to Buffy.

So, this, Buffy sitting in her lap, gripping her thigh, is pure torture. Even though she knows that any minute now Buffy will come to her senses, probably get up, thank her for the shoulder rub, and pretend this never happened, Faith can’t stop herself from pushing for more. Winding an arm around Buffy’s waist, she pulls Buffy in more snugly, trying not to push her hips up as she does so. She’s uncomfortably wet, and the lacy panties she wore under her dress are doing little to keep things contained.

Buffy presses her ass backward, getting comfortable in her new position, and Faith can’t help the soft sound that escapes with her next breath out. She tenses, expecting that to break the spell, and Buffy to at least stand up, if not throw an elbow back into her nose. Instead, shifts her weight forward, then back again, as if she’s getting more comfortable, and then Faith has the realization that _holy shit, Buffy’s into this._

Faith scrapes her blunt teeth over Buffy’s neck, followed by her tongue again, and she can hear Buffy’s heart beat a little faster in her chest. Buffy’s fingers on Faith’s legs are a vise.

With her free hand, Faith fumbles with the bulkiness of Buffy’s dress, finally taking a handful and dragging it up. Buffy shifts in her lap, not helping, but not hindering either, and Faith noses at the spot where her shoulder melts into her neck, as her fingers find the hem of the dress.

Almost trembling, Faith reaches under her dress, finding the warm, smooth skin of Buffy’s leg. She slides further under Buffy’s dress, until her fingertips graze Buffy’s inner thigh.

Buffy’s breathing in little pants now, her eyes closed as she waits for Faith to do what they both want. And suddenly Faith has a bad feeling about that. Maybe slaying does the same thing to Buffy as it does to her, no matter what kind of non-fat yogurt nonsense she insists is true. Maybe it doesn’t really matter if this is Faith under her, or anyone else. She could be thinking about Scott Hope, or worse… the vampire ex.

She leaves her hand where it is, but takes her arm from around Buffy’s waist, seizing her chin roughly. She turns Buffy’s head to meet hers, bringing their mouths together. It’s their first kiss, and it’s nothing like Faith imagined on the times when she let herself think about all that romantic, girly shit, kissing Buffy after walking her home from a movie or whatever. Instead it’s hard, both of them going all in, with tongues and teeth and Buffy twisting just enough in her lap that Faith groans into her mouth.

Buffy does it again, planting her bare feet on either side of Faith’s so she has the traction to roll her hips forward and then back again.

Faith squeezes her thighs together, already wet and sticky with the promise of things still to come, and presses her hips up, meeting Buffy when she rolls back down.

“Faith,” Buffy says in a soft whisper, reaching up to thread her fingers into Faith’s hair.

That one word makes Faith’s stomach do somersaults. She plants a softer kiss on Buffy’s shoulder once more. “Sit up a little,” she says.

Buffy does as she’s bid, shifting in Faith’s lap in a way that makes her grit her teeth. Faith reaches for the zipper on the back of Buffy’s dress. One handed, she manages to get it halfway down before the little teeth get stuck. _Fuck it,_ she thinks, releasing the zipper and bringing her arm back around Buffy. She pulls her back into her original position, Buffy’s head on her shoulder. Then she fumbles at the loosened bodice of Buffy’s dress, managing to get her hand inside.

Buffy stiffens when Faith finds her right breast, palming it just as she returns her attention to Buffy’s neck. Faith sucks on the delicate skin, enjoying the sound of Buffy’s little gasping noises as she begins to roll her nipple between her fingers.

The rustling of taffeta begins anew as Faith’s right hand finally moves. She keeps her touch gentle, the faintest hint of fingertips tracing circles higher and higher on the inside of Buffy’s thigh. Buffy squirms in her lap, and Faith hisses involuntarily, hand tightening on her breast before she catches herself.

Far from being put out by that, Buffy moans softly. Faith grins at that. _Miss Perfect likes it rough._ She pinches Buffy’s nipple, a little harder this time. Buffy arches her back, tugging at Faith’s hair as she does so.

Faith edges up Buffy’s leg, until her fingertips just brush the fabric of her panties. It’s at least three degrees warmer under this dress than it is in this room, and she can feel warmth radiating from between Buffy’s splayed legs. Part of her wants to stand up, drop Buffy back on this chair, and get on her knees. She’d pull Buffy’s butt to the edge of the chair, lift her dress, and dive right in. But the bigger part of her feels sure that she shouldn’t do anything to upset this fragile moment. When she’d started out the night, pulling a slinky black dress on, expertly applying her lipstick, she never expected to finish out the night with Buffy in her room, with a handful of one of her perfect tits and closing in on home base. She’s guessing Buffy wasn’t expecting this either. Best not to overwhelm her completely.

Buffy’s panties are soaking wet when Faith finally touches her. Faith hums approvingly into her neck. Buffy has a death grip on her thigh, and Faith knows she’s going to have a hand shaped bruise on her leg when this is over. “Hold your dress up for me,” she says, her voice low, both to give Buffy’s hand something else to do, and to provide herself better access.

Buffy obligingly gathers the skirt of her dress and pulls it up, out of Faith’s way. Her fingers knot in the fabric and she presses it against her abdomen.

She hasn’t done this before, but Faith figures it can’t be that much different than doing it to herself. Using her index finger, she pulls back the waistband of Buffy’s panties and slips her hand inside.

It’s _a lot_ different than doing it to herself. She almost forgets how to breathe when her fingers sink into the molten heat between Buffy’s legs. Buffy’s swollen lips are parted for her, and Faith’s finger slides easily between them, making Buffy’s hips rock up toward her hand. She overshoots her clit for a second before righting her course. Wishing Buffy’s dress wasn’t so poofy that it’s blocking her view, Faith makes her way by feel. Buffy’s clit is a little bit smaller than Faith’s used to, but hard and waiting for her touch.

Buffy whimpers when Faith rubs two fingers over it. Faith starts experimenting with all the different styles she’s familiar with until she hits on one that Buffy seems to like. Stroking Buffy’s clit with her thumb, she lets the rest of her fingers glide down Buffy’s slit, until her fingertips poke at her entrance.

Buffy presses herself backward, trying to tilt her pelvis more, needing more of Faith’s touch. The chair beneath them makes a creaking sound and Faith stabilizes her own back, trying to support Buffy better so they don’t break the furniture. “You want me inside you?” Faith asks, her voice gruff.

“Uh huh,” Buffy says, eyes closed, still gripping Faith’s hair in one hand.

Abandoning Buffy’s tits for the time being, Faith brings her other hand down, pushing past Buffy’s rolled up dress. She covers her own twisting hand, fingers probing past until she finds Buffy’s entrance. She rubs her fingers through the juices coating her other hand, then carefully presses two fingers inside Buffy.

Buffy’s tight in a way that makes Faith think she’s not big on the self love. She wants to plunge inside her, to hear Buffy cry out, but she forces herself to be gentle, to wait until Buffy gets used to her fingers before she pulls back out and thrusts in again.

“Faith,” Buffy whispers again, and Faith is beginning to think she could get used to the sound of her name falling from Buffy’s mouth like that.

Feeling more confident now, she returns her attention to Buffy’s neck, kissing along the sensitive skin. Somewhere along the way, she realizes that she’s begun rolling her hips up with every thrust of her fingers. Buffy’s rocking with her, helping Faith’s slick fingers enter her more deeply each time.

Buffy seems _really_ into it, grinding her ass down against Faith every time Faith arches up toward her. She’s beginning to feel a little tingly herself, just from her squeezed together thighs and humping Buffy’s ass. She forces herself to block that out, focus just on Buffy. Buffy’s pussy is beginning to squeeze her fingers each time she enters her, and her neck is salty with sweat when Faith nibbles lightly.

Her body drawing as tense as a bow string, Buffy holds on to Faith’s hair for dear life, beginning to murmur her name over and over again.

“That’s it, B,” Faith says against her ear. She turns her head slightly to alleviate some of the tugging Buffy’s doing on her hair.

There’s a short tearing sound as Buffy’s dress falters under the grip of her other hand, and then she’s bearing down against Faith’s hands. Her muscles spasm against Faith’s fingers, and Faith shoves her way in as deep as she can get. Buffy cries out, her body shaking atop Faith’s for a long moment before she goes limp in her arms. She relaxes the hand in Faith’s hair, dropping it to rest on her heaving chest.

Faith thinks the polite thing to do is leave her hands in place until Buffy says otherwise, so she doesn’t move, just nuzzles her face against Buffy’s neck, leaving kisses in her wake.

After a few moments, Buffy shifts uncomfortably, and touches Faith’s wrist. Carefully extricating herself, Faith lets one hand settle against Buffy’s stomach. The other she brings to her mouth, thoroughly sucking each finger clean.

Buffy makes no move to get off her lap, just watches this with half lidded eyes. When Faith raises an eyebrow at her, she asks tentatively, “You like that? The, uhh, the way it tastes?”

Faith’s pussy tenses painfully at Buffy’s innocent question. She swallows, nodding.

“No one’s ever…” Buffy begins, then cuts herself off, her already flushed face growing redder.

“Ever…?” Faith prompts, letting her arm drop to wrap around Buffy’s waist with its companion.

“Done that,” Buffy says, “to me.”

“Licked their fingers?”

“Yes,” Buffy says, her face burning, “but I meant, everything you just did.”

“Oh,” Faith says, understanding now. She squeezes her arms around Buffy. “Was it, uhh, okay?” It seemed good. It seemed really good, but you never really know what someone else is thinking.

Buffy gives her a pointed look. “Better than okay.”

“Well, good,” Faith says, relieved.

Buffy picks up the crumpled skirt of her dress and tosses it down her legs, covering them once more. She rests her hands atop Faith’s, seeming content for the moment to stay in Faith’s lap catching her breath. Faith strokes her arms absently. “You never tried it, when you do it yourself?”

“Tried what?” Buffy asks.

“How you taste,” Faith says, sounding like this is a completely normal conversation.

Buffy sputters for a second, then says, “I don’t really—do _that_ , myself, a lot.”

“Really?” Faith asks, surprised. “Thought for sure that whole non-fat yogurt line was bullshit.”

“I do really like yogurt,” Buffy says with a frown. Then she says, quieter, “I guess it has been a little more intense, the last few weeks.”

Faith thinks about the nights in her bed, desperately circling her clit while wishing her hand was Buffy’s. “For me too,” she admits.

Buffy hesitates a moment, then asks, “What about this? Me and you—were you thinking about this before tonight?”

Here’s her opportunity to downplay this, to tell Buffy it was some fluke thing. Instead, she says, “Yes.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, then, “Me too.”

“Really?” Faith asks, surprised. She squeezes Buffy’s middle, insanely pleased by this development. Another question pops into her mind, and, deciding that she’s already thrown caution to the wind, caught it, and thrown it back again, so she might as well roll with it, Faith asks, “When you said things were more intense lately… is this what you’ve been thinking about when you touch yourself?”

“Is it what you think about?” Buffy counters without answering.

“Yes,” Faith answers again. Who needs pride?

Buffy wiggles out of Faith’s hold, getting carefully to her feet. Once standing, she rolls her neck, wincing. One hand holds up the loose top of her dress.

Faith’s acutely aware of how she looks, her hair frazzled from Buffy’s pulling, dress wrinkled and bunched, still seated and probably just waiting for Buffy to get gone. Looks like it’s another night alone with Ms. Trusty Right Hand, but at least she has something more concrete to think about now. She opens her mouth to say she’s getting tired, give Buffy an out, when Buffy says, “Show me.”

A choking sound is her first response. “Show you what?” Faith asks, when she’s cleared her throat, although she’s fairly certain she got the gist.

Buffy’s flushed, from embarrassment or something else. “Show me what you do when you think about me.”

Faith hesitates a moment. No one’s ever asked her to masturbate in front of them, but then again this is Buffy, and she’s finding it hard to think of a reason she wouldn’t do anything Buffy wants. Also her pussy has been all but screaming for attention for the last 40 or so minutes and she needs to do _something_ about that.

Laying her hand on her thigh, Faith fingers the soft material of her dress. Making her decision, she slides her hand up, bringing the dress with it. The slit is at her waist now, one thigh peeking through the gap. With her other hand, Faith lifts the remaining panel of her dress, flicking it off her leg. She’s wearing red lace panties underneath, now fully on display.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ Faith thinks, and spreads her legs a little, getting comfortable. She looks up at Buffy, to find her eyes firmly fixed between Faith’s legs, on the little scrap of lace that’s preventing her from seeing more. Buffy gropes for the bed behind her, finding it and sitting back. The front of her dress droops dangerously low, barely concealing her breasts from Faith’s view.

Faith keeps her eyes focused on Buffy’s face, watching her reaction as she presses her middle finger against the soaked crotch of her panties. Buffy swallows hard, gripping the edge of the bed with both hands.

Faith pulls her panties aside, inhaling sharply when she touches her own aching sex. “You like to tease me,” Faith says, in a low voice, running her fingertip lightly up and down her slit, not lingering long enough to do more than frustrate herself. “You start off slow, not touching my clit even though you know I want you to.”

“Uh huh,” Buffy says agreeably.

“You wait until I’m so hot I could beg you for it.” Faith spreads her legs further, giving Buffy a better view of her fingers sliding through the pooling wetness. “Until I think I could die if you don’t fuck me soon.”

“Then?” Buffy asks, reaching behind herself to fumble with the zipper on her dress.

“Then you go inside me,” Faith answers, reaching down further to slide two fingers inside herself. She moans a little as she does so, pulling out and then pushing back in harder. “You know just how I like it, B.”

Buffy’s eyelids flutter at the nickname, and she manages to get her dress all the way undone. The bodice sinks to her naval, and she raises one of her hands to cup her breast.

Faith’s pussy squeezes around her fingers in response.

Buffy pinches her nipple as she watches Faith fucking herself, her movements slow but hard. She shifts uncomfortably on the bed, obviously crossing her legs beneath her dress.

“Then you start to play with my clit,” Faith says, bringing her other hand into the mix. She circles the engorged flesh slowly, her eyes slipping closed. She’s seeing stars behind her eyelids. “Oh, god, Buffy…”

There’s a rustling sound, and Faith opens her eyes to find Buffy back on her feet and stepping out of her dress. Clad in nothing but underwear, she crosses the space between them.

Faith doesn’t stop her motions as Buffy straddles her lap again. She sits close enough that Faith’s knuckles brush her panties with each twist or stroke, but far enough away not to impede Faith’s progress. This time they’re facing each other, and Buffy winds her arms around Faith’s neck. “What else do I do?” She asks in a husky voice.

“You kiss me,” Faith says. Buffy’s hands cup her jaw, tilting Faith’s head up so their mouths meet in the middle. Faith’s hands continue working furiously, but she’s distracted now, with Buffy nearly naked and sitting in her lap. Buffy fumbles with the thin straps of Faith’s dress, tugging them slowly down until they’re resting uselessly against Faith’s biceps.

“You touch my tits,” Faith says breathlessly.

Buffy grasps the dress by both sides of the torso and yanks it down easily, exposing Faith’s chest. One palm cups Faith’s right breast, the other goes back to Faith’s neck, bringing their mouths back together.

Buffy pinches Faith’s nipple roughly, then runs soothing fingers over it once more, and Faith whimpers against her mouth.

“You,” Faith starts to say, only to cut herself off when Buffy presses her tits against Faith’s, burying her face in Faith’s neck. “ _Fuck_ ,” she says, as Buffy lightly licks the side of her throat.

“You put your tits in my face,” Faith manages to say, starting to feel lightheaded.

Buffy obliges immediately, dragging her erect nipples up Faith’s chest as she maneuvers her knees around Faith’s hips, lifting herself a little higher. Grasping Faith’s shoulders, Buffy leans in, exhaling hard when Faith immediately takes one of her nipples into her mouth. Faith sucks hard, using a little teeth, and Buffy’s legs tremble.

She’s close to coming, but she doesn’t want to yet. Faith removes both hands from her pussy and grasps Buffy’s waist. Releasing her nipple, she pulls Buffy flush against her, moaning when Buffy’s still wet cunt presses against her mound.

Buffy pries one of Faith’s hands from her waist and raises it between them. “Do I do this?” She asks, then leans down, sucking Faith’s wet finger.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Faith grits out again. Her other hand slides onto Buffy’s ass, keeping her snugly in place. “Yeah, you do that.”

Buffy swirls her tongue around the tip of Faith’s finger then releases it. “Good,” she says. “I should probably do the other one too?”

Faith can’t help the way she pushes up between Buffy’s legs when Buffy wraps her lips around Faith’s other finger. Buffy licks Faith’s wetness off thoroughly before releasing her hand. She presses herself down against Faith’s mound, tilting her upper body back for better leverage.

“Jesus,” Faith mutters under her breath, then, “You grind your pussy on me.” She leans forward as she says that, bringing her mouth back to Buffy’s tits. She takes the other nipple in her mouth now, refusing to stop sucking as Buffy resituates her legs so they’re wrapped around Faith’s waist. Buffy squeezes Faith’s hips with her legs, pushing her pussy down against Faith and wiggling her hips.

Faith’s nails dig into Buffy’s ass. “B,” she pants, as Buffy squeezes her legs in again. Dark spots swim in her vision. Her pussy throbs painfully, probably leaving a huge wet patch on the chair beneath them. She’s so close, one touch from Buffy could push her over. Faith’s desperate for her, aching, swollen. She sits back, searching Buffy’s flushed face. “Touch me,” she says, trying not to sound like she’s begging.

Buffy nods. She slides backward across Faith’s thighs, not hesitating to slip her hand between Faith’s legs.

Faith groans loudly as Buffy cups her pussy, her fingertips immediately lining up with Faith’s clenching hole. She watches Faith while she sinks inside her, the way her face contorts in pleasure. Faith grips Buffy hard enough to hurt a mere mortal, but Buffy says nothing, just eagerly takes to fucking her like she’s done it a thousand times before.

Faith’s barely managing to hold them both upright as Buffy pistons two fingers in her throbbing cunt. “Just like that,” she says, breathlessly.

Buffy shuffles farther up Faith’s legs again, now pressing her pussy against the back of her own hand. Faith whimpers when Buffy’s palm splays flat against her slit, bumping deliciously against her clit. Buffy starts to roll her hips again, each time pressing the heel of her hand down onto Faith’s clit. Her fingers keep working, twisting and plunging inside Faith.

Unable to do more than hold on, Faith wraps her arms around Buffy’s back, burying her face in Buffy’s hair as tingling begins low in her abdomen. Her legs tense, feeling the beginning of a hard earned orgasm coming on.

Buffy’s free hand is in her hair. She leans in, her voice low and close to Faith’s ear. “Show me how you come for me.”

Faith’s breath gets trapped in her chest for a moment as stars explode behind her eyelids, then it’s free and she’s crying out hoarsely, no idea what she’s saying other than Buffy’s name.

Running a soothing hand up and down Faith’s back, Buffy rides the wave out with her, her hand pressed to Faith’s pussy until she finally stops quivering. Then she gently withdraws, flexing her fingers for a moment before she winds this arm around Faith’s shoulders too.

Faith hugs her waist as she slumps back in the chair, forcing Buffy to follow her. Her eyes close, and she runs her hands up and down Buffy’s bare back as she tries to gather her breath.

“Was that okay?” Buffy asks in a soft voice.

Faith laughs, squeezing her. “That was amazing,” she says.

Buffy snuggles in closer. “Good,” she says, sounding pleased with herself.

Faith pets her hair, her back, afraid that as soon as she stops, the spell will be broken. Buffy will get up, put her clothes on and go home, and they’ll never talk about this again. Faith’s never been very good at knowing what she wants, but she knows she doesn’t want that. “B,” she says, hesitantly.

“Hmm?” Buffy says, completely relaxed against her. Her fingertips paint lazy circles on Faith’s shoulder.

“Stay here tonight?” Faith asks, trying not to sound as nervous as she feels. “We could get breakfast in the morning, if you want.”

Buffy sits back, so they can see each other better, and Faith thinks this is it, she’s going to make an excuse for why she can’t stay. But Buffy gives her a small smile. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” Faith repeats, grinning now. She reaches up, cupping Buffy’s neck in both hands, and kisses her. It’s soft and slow, and she’s just as nervous as she was a few hours ago when Buffy called her bluff and settled into her lap.

Buffy winds her fingers into Faith’s hair, her thumb caressing the sensitive skin just behind Faith’s earlobe. “Does this mean you’re tired and you wanna go to sleep?”

Faith takes in the little smile on Buffy’s lips. “I could be persuaded otherwise. What did you have in mind?”

Buffy glances behind them, toward the bed. “I’m sure we can think of something to keep us occupied.”

“I’ve got some ideas,” Faith admits, her hands roaming back down Buffy’s back, settling comfortably on her ass.

“Show me,” Buffy says.

**Author's Note:**

> PWP is very far outside of my wheelhouse of purple prose and schmoopy love declarations, so I hope you enjoyed this little foray out of my comfort zone. Comments always appreciated. :)
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://aliceinwondrbra.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/aliceinwondrbra).


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